Debris

13.

Lad leaned into the river spray, one hand wrapped around the railing, the other tangled in mine. I was keenly aware that I had nowhere near enough weight to keep him on the ferry if he fell, and would be sucked into the Tear's icy current behind him.

"Feet on the floor, Lad, not the railing." I tugged at the large man, a lot like trying to shift a steady wall of brick and mortar with my little finger.

"The water is nice, Tan." He leaned over further.

"Not if you fall in it, it won't be."

With a sheepish glance, Lad slipped his feet from the first rung and back to the deck, landing loudly. The few ferries that ran on Rest were filled, but not in a crowded way. There were tired young men making their way down from the city. Middle-aged chaperones supervised younger women who fluttered their eyelashes and were rewarded with leering, sleep-deprived smiles. An elderly couple huddled on seats by the doorway, watching the Keeper Mountain grow slowly smaller, blinking against sunlight on the river. A gaggle of children were doing a fair imitation of Lad's unsafe climbing. I felt sorry for the two governesses trying to pry them all down.

Kichlan stood beside me, also watching the Keeper Mountain. "They weren't like him, you know," he said, soft against the rush of the wind, not loud enough for Lad to hear. "Neither. Both were good binders, respectable people working hard for Varsnia and their children. It's not in the blood. My parents weren't collectors."

"Pion skill has got nothing to do with blood, although the old families won't want to hear that." My mother was proof of that.

"Don't you wonder, then, what it is?" Kichlan's hands gripped the railing, knuckles white, skin blue in the chill. "What made us?"

"I know what made me." I touched the side of my face. "And you made yourself." Kichlan had not been forthcoming with any more details of his fall, but I refused to be dissuaded and continued to pry. "Fling yourself eight hundred feet into the air, did you?"

He said, "Doesn't take eight hundred feet to break a person, and not all of us have to be quite so dramatic." Kichlan looked over my head. "Him then." In the corner of my eye I noticed one of Lad's feet had crept back to the bottom railing. I poked him in the side, and he lowered it with a chuckle. "What made him?"

Over the last sixnight and one, Kichlan, Lad and I had explored the backstreets and alleys between the seventh Effluent and the eighth Keepersrill. Narrow, dark capillaries between wide veins, shaped without reason, blocking often in dead ends or gates. It was this constant companionship, I told myself, that had stopped me searching for Devich. How could I head into the city, or try and find the building where he had suited me, with Kichlan and Lad like dogs, constantly at my heels. And Olday evening, as the brothers had said their farewells at the bottom of Valya's rickety stairs, Kichlan had asked me to come with them the next morning, to visit his parents' graves. If I hadn't been so surprised, I might have thought up a way to decline.

Devich had to be worried. He must have visited my apartment by now. I owed him the truth; he deserved to have his fears rested. Instead, I was heading for the cemetery.

Graves were not my speciality. Between Movoc's prerevolutionary walls and the newer townlets that were springing up around the Weeping Lake, the cemetery was a sprawling necropolis, an architect's nightmare dedicated to the dead. I never visited.

We disembarked at an aging limestone quay, just on the other side of the old Tear gates. Once large defences, securing the break in Movoc's wall necessitated by the Tear River, the gates were rendered useless by the revolution and were now entirely ornamental. The iron had been restored to a better condition than it had probably ever been. The bars were shaped like little rivers, starting with a viciously sharp-summited Keeper, and ending with a skull. Lad stared at the skulls as we passed beneath the shadow of the wall, and even I couldn't help but shiver. Their eyes had been replaced with original kopacks, ancient coins of brass, and they glinted cruelly in the glare from the water.

From the quay we filed along a narrow road, just as ancient, cut into a rocky landscape of desolate knolls. Little more than thistles grew. Shadows seemed to lie there without anything to cast them, hugging the cold earth. We weren't the only ones travelling to the necropolis to visit the loved dead that rest. The old couple followed, at an increasing distance, slow over the treacherous, uneven ground.

"Is this something you do often?" I asked Kichlan, feeling breathless but desperate for something to fill the shadowed quiet.

Lad followed a few yards behind us. He hummed a slow, sad tune.

"I want Lad to remember them," Kichlan answered. "So I suppose, yes, we do this more often than most people."

Certainly more often than me. I wasn't even sure I could remember the plaque behind which my mother's ashes slept. I had not known my father when he was alive, and certainly didn't know where he rested now.

Kichlan led the way along thin paths of cracking stone. I felt surrounded. Gravestones with small roofs made hushed, disordered suburbs. Memorial statues and tombs hulked beside older, unmarked barrows. Rosemary grew in thick-scented clumps between stones. And images of the Other loomed from every corner. Featureless faces etched into gravestones; flat, humanoid shadows built of dark rock stretching from the side of a tomb wall. And older, more frightening things. A skull, half buried, its face crushed. The chaos of a skeleton statue, bones put together the wrong way. The Other was death, and disorder, and fear. Surely he belonged here, then, far from the protective shadow of the mountain named after his opposite: the Keeper.

The stonework was coarse, the paving poor. I tried to tell myself that was why I preferred to stare at the skyline, or a square of green cloth that had been used to repair Kichlan's jacket, near the shoulder.

He halted in a newer patch of graves. Each had a headstone, engraved with names, no worn-away faces or shadows. The roofs were well tended, no tiles cracked. Shin-high fences marked them all apart. Lad tugged rosemary from where it grew in a gap in the path. He settled onto his heels before two graves with no fence to divide them, and placed the rosemary gently on the earth. He picked at weeds that had began poking around the iron fence. He brushed dirt and dried leaves from the roof.

"They loved him, despite what he did. Despite what I chose to do." Kichlan remained by my side, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

"I'm sure they did." Was this why I was here? To be told how much Lad's mother loved him? "Why have you brought me here, Kichlan?"

Lad, satisfied with the cleanliness of the graves, had started pulling small leaves from the stalks of rosemary. The scent surged up around him like a rising tide, and he muttered to himself, a constant flow of words I couldn't hear.

"After I- when Lad forced my hand, I didn't give up. I tried healers first." Kichlan was as quiet as Lad, nearly as difficult to hear. "They kept telling me the same thing. That no one knows what is wrong with him, no one knows why pions choose to abandon some people. They said it like that. As though he'd been tested, and rejected." The venom in his soft words was a chilling and terrible thing.

I touched the top of my head. "I wish I could tell you I can't imagine how horrible that feels."

Kichlan shuffled closer, so our arms touched through layers of woollen and leather coats. "Too much of that and someone in the veche must have heard. They sent technicians to check on Lad every second day. Even some of those Other-cursed veche men. I stopped asking after that."

I shuddered, and Kichlan leaned against me.

"Eugeny had some ideas of his own. You know what he's like."

Golden root wax plant, whatever it was. "I do."

"Nearly impossible to get Lad to drink his concoctions, I have to say. For all the good it did." He let out a sigh so long it sounded like it had started somewhere close to his feet. "And now, all I can do is watch him, protect him. Make sure he remembers the parents that loved him, and try to make him happy."

"Did you read the veche records?"

He snorted. "Those little glass pion-written things? I did, when I could. They were not terribly helpful."

I could imagine that. "What about researchers? You must have attended a university to become a technician. The texts there, the lecturers, they could have helped you."

Yes, what about them? I knew some strong binders who'd dedicated their lives to the study and the teaching of those little spots of bright light. If I asked them, they might know what made a person lose their pion sight, and they might know how to fix it. What's more, they might know how to summon a horde of furious, crimson pions from deep inside reality. They might even know who could do it.

Why hadn't I thought of this earlier? Jernea, if he was still alive, would not turn me away. I was sure of it.

"Ah." Kichlan looked down at me, mouth set, but unable to quench a sudden hope I saw in his eyes. "Technicians train each other, I'm afraid. If you display the correct skills and make the right inquiries the veche comes calling, and offers you a position. So I did not attend any university that could help us."

I remembered the letter from Proud Sunlight that I had cradled so close to me. It is with regret we hear of your misfortune. But if Jernea was still there, he would listen to me. He would help.

"I did," I whispered. "And I will try."

"Done now, bro." Lad was standing, watching us, and neither of us had noticed. "Is that enough?"

For a collector like him. And a collector like me.

"Yes, Lad," Kichlan answered with a smile. "We can go home now."

Together, we rode the ferry on its journey upriver. Together, we took Lad home and gave him over to Eugeny's food and care. Together, we returned to my new home. I felt close to Kichlan, close to Lad. A part of the team, even something like family.

Then Mornday, when I descended to the sublevel and stepped beneath the filtered morning light and the cracked ceiling, Devich was there.

He glanced at me, and his expression didn't change. He had been rotating half a dozen or so small glass slides in the air in front of his face. He stilled them with a whisper, then plucked one and held it close to his eye. I wondered what was written in it.

"Vladha?" he asked.

I realised I was gaping at him. I shut my jaw with a click, and forced my feet across the floor. Kichlan, Lad, Mizra and Uzdal were already sitting in the couches, none of them pleased. A second technician was counting jars.

Guilt knocked the air from me, guilt at Devich's expressionless face. "Yes," I answered with a gasping breath. "Tanyana Vladha."

"And are you still housed at the second Keepersrill? Paleice, I believe it is."

Kichlan glanced up at this, surprised. I gathered this was not an ordinary question.

I drew a breath. It was like treading on pale ice itself. "No."

Devich's eyebrows rose. There was something sharp in the motion, something hurt.

"No, I was forced to leave there. Forced. No way to contact anyone I knew and tell them where I had gone, no time to take anything with me." But time to watch Lad lay rosemary at his mother's grave. "Believe me, I did not move out of choice."

The hurt became alarm. His fingers tightened around the slide and it cracked. He didn't seem to notice. "Forced?" he said. "Are you all right then, Vladha?"

"Yes. Only due to the other members of my team." I inclined my head to Kichlan.

Devich did not even glance at him. "And where are you living now?" He repaired the cracked slide with a whisper, and poised his finger above it.

"I rent a room not far from here. In someone else's house."

"Ah." Irritated, he glanced my way. "Address?"

I told him, but I hoped he had understood I could not entertain him any longer, not with Valya cooking below. If he wanted a bed to share with me, it would have to be his own.

"Thank you. Please, take a seat, we will begin when the rest of the team have arrived."

I squeezed in beside Kichlan. "Inspection?"

He made a low, grunting noise. "Yes, but I don't know why. We haven't been up to our usual standard but we've definitely been above quota the past few sixnights." He frowned. "Yes, I'm sure of it. So I don't know why they're here."

I glanced up at Devich. His face was down, apparently focused on the slide, but his eyes had followed me. His expression was cold, and confused, and even a little jealous. But I did not move from Kichlan's side. Devich had no reason to look like that.

Sofia and Natasha arrived as breakbell sounded, dim and distant through glass and cement. They were both surprised by Devich and his fellow technician, but answered their questions easily. Finally, when we had all gathered, both technicians stood together before the table covered in jars.

"Firstly," started the technician I didn't know. "The damage to the ceiling."

I groaned, inwardly. Sofia shot me a venomous expression.

"This has not been reported to the veche, which is irregular to say the least."

"However," Devich interrupted. "You will be given time to have it repaired. Inspectors will be sent in two sixnights and one, ensure it is filled in by then."

His fellow technician appeared surprised by this, but made a note of it and didn't argue. I couldn't remember if I'd told Devich about the damage I'd caused to the ceiling, but I must have. A rush of gratitude flushed my cheeks.

"Now, we will proceed." The technicians employed Kichlan and Mizra to help them set up a large screen they had drawn from a long canvas bag. It was built of hollow tubes and green material. They arranged it across one corner of the room, and dragged two chairs to sit behind it.

"One at a time," Uzdal whispered in my ear. My confusion must have been evident. "They take us behind there one at a time and have a good poke around."

I flashed him an alarmed expression, and he chuckled. "The suit, Tanyana. They poke around at the suit. Make sure everything's working."

"Oh." My face flamed, which set him laughing again.

"And believe me," Uzdal continued once he had calmed down enough to speak. "You want everything to be all right."

"Why?"

"Because if it's not then you need to go back on the table, with the lights and the machines and they do a tune-up. They tighten, they push deeper." He shuddered. "It's not pleasant."

"Did it happen to you?"

He nodded. "The suit never took to Mizra and me very well. Had to endure a few of those to get it right. One time's bad enough, don't you think?"

I remembered the voices, the pressure, and the knowledge of pain numbed by drugs. "Oh yes."

Devich took Sofia first. Far from nervous, she seemed relieved to be getting it over and done with.

"You shouldn't worry, though," Uzdal commented as the technicians led Sofia away. "You're like her. Suit always worked, didn't it? Never had any problems. Can't imagine you'd have them now."

The suit worked too well at times. Maybe working too well would also warrant a tune-up. I hoped not.

Sofia stayed behind the curtain for half a bell. When she emerged, she was relaxed, her suit glowing particularly bright. Devich took Natasha next, and he and his fellow kept her for a bell at least. When she returned to us she was happier than Sofia had been. Even volunteered to find us something to eat.

Uzdal and Mizra were called together, and I sat fidgeting beside Kichlan, wondering if Devich was forcing me to wait on purpose. If this was some kind of vindictive punishment.

"It's fine." Kichlan patted my knee. I jumped under his hand, and he gave me a sympathetic smile. "You've had no problems, so you'll be fine. I know the first time is hard, a bit frightening. Brings back the nasty memories." He tapped his forehead. "But it's not that bad. Trust me."

I nodded, unable to find my voice. None of them understood the torment, the turmoil, that had nothing to do with my suit.

"Vladha?" Devich stepped out from behind the screen. I jerked again, and stood up so quickly I knocked my knee against the corner of the low table near the couch.

Wincing, bending slightly to rub what had to be a developing bruise, I answered, "Yes?"

"My colleague can examine the twins, and we will run out of bells if we don't make this faster." He glanced at a silver watch drawn from the lapel of his jacket. Unlike the one Jernea had given me – and which had not survived my first day as a collector – Devich's watch was powered by pions. Tiny replicas of silver bells rose from its otherwise smooth surface and danced, chiming out the time as they did so. Expensive. "Would you come here?"

"With Mizra and Uzdal?" Why did I feel embarrassed? The twins had already watched me undress once, what more could they possibly see? Surely Devich wasn't about to strip me to my skin and have his poke around?

"There's nothing to worry about." Devich tried for patience, but I thought he looked annoyed. "Believe me."

I glanced at Kichlan, desperately seeking some kind of escape. He just nodded, and made get going motions with his hands. I stepped around the couches and approached the screen. Devich's lips were tight. He wasn't impressed.

Movoc's crisp sunlight was diluted faint and green by the material. Mizra and Uzdal stood before the second technician, naked to the waist, their uniform tops lying like second, darker skins at their feet. Neither met my eyes as Devich led me past them. In the green shadows it was difficult to make out expressions, to see anything other than the silver that shone and spun at their wrists, necks, waists and ankles. The technician was leaning close to Mizra, a long, thin instrument of the same shining silver in his hand. It had a hooked end and this was inserted between the symbols on the suit at Mizra's neck.

I shuddered as the instrument slipped inside, as the assistant turned it, as Mizra jerked his head to the side and clenched his hands. Was Devich going to do that to me?

"Watch where you're going," Devich snapped.

I had walked into a chair, placed away from Mizra and Uzdal and angled to face the wall. Scant privacy that would provide.

I gripped the back of the chair as Devich walked around me, my hands shaking against the poly-coated wood. A final glance at Uzdal, a hope for some kind of support, and while his face was darkened by shadow, a beam of light glancing off the steel tubes shone directly on a long scar down his right side. It ran, thin, precise, from his underarm all the way down to his stomach. It was broken only by the band of suit, and disappeared into his pants.

Did Mizra have the same scar on his other side?

Had they been broken together?

"Are you finished staring?" Devich waited for me, his arms crossed.

I blushed and approached the wall. Close to my back, the cement radiated cold though my clothes and uniform. If I was forced to strip like Mizra and Uzdal had, I would freeze. Would Devich show me pity if I started to turn blue?

"Take quite an interest in your fellow collectors, don't you?" Devich muttered. He didn't sit, but remained standing in front of his chair, arms crossed, lips thin. Sharp shadows gave his face planes of anger and an appropriate green hue.

I held back a retort, a spider-bite. "Is it really a concern of yours?"

"They're my team," I answered instead. I fought against anger, against the need to scream in his face, tell him everything that had happened and how desperately I had needed him when he wasn't there. But that wasn't his fault. I could have searched, couldn't I? Found a building I hardly remembered, or a home I had no address to. "Of course I take an interest in them. But I have-" I drew the words out, dropped my voice, hoped he understood and didn't think my association with collectors was making me dull and unhinged "-other interests."

Devich had been sorting through his slides again. He paused, summoned them back into his palm. "Do you?"

"Oh yes, interests outside of collecting. Consuming ones."

Devich looked up. His thin lips struggled against a rising smile. "Consuming? Have trouble controlling these interests?"

"Oh yes. But they give me exactly what I want."

"Well, aren't you lucky?"

"I've come to think so." The tension shifted, and I found it easier to breathe. Taking my clothes off was growing rapidly less frightening. "If only I could show you," I whispered the final words, hoping they wouldn't carry further than Devich, past his body to Mizra and Uzdal or over the screen to Kichlan.

Devich cleared his throat loudly. Finally, he sat, looking uncomfortable, his hands in his lap. "So." He cleared his throat again. "Shall we proceed?"

I grinned. "Oh, absolutely." I pulled my blouse over my head as Devich dragged a stiff leather case out from beneath his chair.

He left me in my camisole and the small drawers I had worn beneath my uniform. Both were simple things, secondhand clothes Valya had soaked in lime powder and left in the sun for days before allowing me to wear.

If Devich noticed anything different in the underwear, he didn't remark. But then, apart from the softness that came from factory-spun cotton and inner linings of silk, they weren't all that different from my usual, ever-practical fare.

"Now." Devich stood. "Let me see."

Goosebumps rose along my arm as he lifted it. It wasn't the cold anymore. He turned my hand gently; light from the suit surged and shone in patterns over his face. But he wasn't watching the suit. Instead, his eyes held mine. They swam with strange letters, symbols I could not read and had not seen before.

"What happened?" he whispered. He was so close to me, touching me, and it was difficult to remember that there were other people in this room. That we were not alone.

I breathed in his smell. Tension in my shoulders, tension I hadn't known existed, eased out.

"I was thrown out," I mouthed the words, voice as silent as I could make it. "The landlord sent two men to take me away."

Devich's hand tightened on mine. For a moment we were joined, hand to hand, eye to eye. Closer than sex, it felt, simple and truthful. I squeezed him back. Gently, he placed my hand against my hip and moved to pick up my left. He hadn't checked my suit once.

"You got away?" He pretended to bend over my wrist. Even nodded before releasing my hand and leaning into my neck.

I could feel the heat from his breath, the warmth of his body as it arched over mine. Made it very hard to concentrate. Very hard to keep up the pretence of a reluctant debris collector and her technician.

"Yes. I got away." I didn't extrapolate. I didn't even like to think about that evening in any detail. But he deserved a better explanation than that. "I didn't know where you live. I still don't. I wanted to go to you, but I didn't know where. So I came here instead, found a new place to stay, new clothes."

Not entirely honest, not exactly accurate. But close enough.

Devich touched my waist. He ran fingers around the edge of my suit. They set me shivering. "I'm sorry," he murmured in my ear.

Over his shoulder I could see Mizra and Uzdal's backs. Their technician was fiddling with Uzdal's waist. I took the moment to lean against Devich. He slipped his hands beneath my camisole, stroked upward over smooth skin and scar alike, to cup my breasts gently. His palms were warm, and left a cool breeze when he released me and returned to the suit.

"I should have told you where I live. I should have given you an option. Somewhere safe to run to. I guess-" he touched my chin with one finger and turned my face to his "-I never imagined you would need one."

He kissed me. Something hurried, something desperate, the press of his lips so hard my teeth nearly cut my own mouth. Then he stepped away and drew a sharp instrument from his bag. "I wouldn't concern yourself," he said, suddenly very loud. The bubble we had created around us, the small, warm world popped with the sound. "It doesn't hurt."

A quick glance up told me the technician was watching us. How much had he seen?

"If you say so," I answered. "I hope not."

"Trust us, Miss Vladha. We know what we're doing." Devich crouched at my feet. "Give me your wrists again." I held out a hand. He gripped it softly, and inserted the thin edge of the instrument between my skin and suit.

There wasn't much space to insert it in. He pushed gently, and I winced as it cut into my skin.

"Careful!" I hissed. Blood trickled down from beneath the silver band. He pulled a kerchief from his pale coat and dabbed it away.

"Wonderful," he said.

"Wonderful? That hurt." I frowned down at him.

He balanced himself, one hand high on my bare thigh. My frown vanished.

"Apologies. But it is wonderful. No distinction between suit and skin, even after time, even after use. This is very, very good. And look." He lifted my hand up; I peered at the suit.

Something was moving in the cut he had made. Tiny wiggling things like insect legs, but a pale, silvery blue. They struggled, kicking out into the air he had opened me to, dancing a bizarre and violent dance.

I felt faint, but Devich's grip on hand and thigh kept me upright. "What is that?" I choked out.

"The suit." How could he possibly sound so calm? "It's the best bond I've seen. Look, it doesn't want to be separated from you. It won't allow it."

The legs were sewing me up. Using threads of that same, pale metal, like thinner versions of themselves. Their stitches were tight, and together formed a tiny plate, an extension of the band itself, tugging skin together, covering the cut. Stopping the bleeding.

I didn't know what to feel. Sick, for the thing inside me, the thing Devich had put there. Or a desperate sense of how unfair this was. If I had fallen with the suit on, if Tsana had cut me up with the suit on, would it have sewn me together? Would it have allowed me to be maimed?

"I told you, didn't I?" Devich let go of my hand and started on the other. He didn't prod this time, didn't cut. Merely pulled at the skin and looked for a gap. I already knew there wouldn't be one. "You will be stronger, you will be better." He leaned forward, so close to my pelvis his lips were nearly touching my drawers where they stretched over bone. "Than any other collector."

Did that include my team? I was hardly better than any of them. But he didn't know, how could he understand? Gaps between suit and skin didn't mean anything, not in the tiring, dirty everyday.

"Devich?" A new voice in our close dialogue. The other technician.

Devich, not the least bit fazed, simply leaned away from me and looked over his shoulder. "Yes?" He still held the sharp, hooked instrument in one hand and was touching the skin below my waist with the other.

I realised I had lost track of his hands. With his lips so close.

"I've finished with these two."

"Any progress?" Devich asked.

Mizra and Uzdal were dim shapes pulling on clothes, keeping their faces averted. I caught a glimpse of Mizra's side, and sure enough saw the mirror of his brother's scar.

"The same." The technician was staring at me. I wanted to cross my arms, but couldn't decide if he was looking at the nipples standing hard beneath white material, the scars running pink and stitched, or the suit spinning at my neck. Neither could I be sure which would be more disconcerting.

"At least they haven't regressed again." Devich turned to me and bent to lift my right foot. I gripped the wall with my free hand to keep my balance.

"True."

"Who will you do now?" Devich's breath tickled.

"The big guy. Team leader last. Sound good to you?"

"Whatever you like."

The technician walked around the screen and suddenly my foot was back on the floor, Devich had his hands on my hips and was pressing his mouth against me. He was warm through the fabric, his lips slightly open, promising pressure and moisture.

I let out a gasp. He stole a hand around, wiggled fingers beneath cloth and slipped inside me with a groan.

I fought the need to arch, to lean against the cold wall.

Instead, I gripped his head, held him there as his mouth moved, as he sucked the white cloth clear and his fingers, his fingers roamed.

"I've missed you," he murmured, voice muffled. "I need you."

I said nothing. Dimly, as though a wall of concrete, stone and steel stood between me and the rest of the room, I could hear Kichlan.

"You can't take him in without me." His voice was raised. Every one of these inspections was a strain on him.

I rocked against Devich's hands, wrapped my fingers through strands of hair and bit the bottom of my lip to stop myself crying out. While Kichlan fought for a brother who couldn't thank him. I churned inside, aching with pleasure, drowning in self-disgust. I was the reason they were here, I was putting this strain on Kichlan, on Lad.

"Don't you people keep notes?" Kichlan continued. "I'm his guardian, and you're not doing anything to him without me there."

I clenched around Devich's fingers, quivered beneath his mouth. And Kichlan said, "Finally. Thank you for seeing reason-" As I heard footsteps coming closer, closer, I eased Devich from me, out of me, and panting, whispered, "Why did you do that?"

His eyes were so green in the light from the screen, sharp like a blade of grass. "I told you. I missed you." Then he handed me my uniform pants and wiped his mouth and fingers with the kerchief he had used to soak up my blood.

I was tugging myself into the uniform as Kichlan and Lad appeared around the screen. Lad grinned at me, waved. Kichlan blushed a red that darkened in the green light, and looked away.

Devich, pretending to put away his tools, rifled through the bag he had brought. The sound of steel against glass was jarring, slicing into a dull tension making its way up my neck to nest in my head.

"That's good," he was saying. "But not as good as it could be." He clipped the bag closed and stood. In my uniform pants and camisole, I felt shaky and altogether too exposed. "Here." He had found a scrap of paper and a pencil in that bag, and started scribbling. "Cleanliness, Vladha. Cleanliness is the key." I wished he would keep his voice down. For show or not, I didn't need the rest of my team hearing about my apparent lack of sanitation. "Follow these instructions, particularly the next time something falls on you." He smirked as he handed me the paper, particularly pleased with himself.

An address was scrawled in graphite on the rough weave, and some vague directions. I glanced up, realising Devich was telling me where to find him.

"Follow them carefully." He winked at me, and deliberately ran the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Of course," I answered, and bent to retrieve my clothes. I jammed the paper into the deepest pocket I could find, so it pressed against my uniform, my second skin. It would remain hidden, close to me, even at home. "Good." Devich sat, drew out his slides, selected one, and began directing its pions to take notes. "You can go now."

With my clothes piled hastily over my uniform, I snuck past Kichlan and Lad. Lad was hypnotised by a mirror the other technician was using to flash reflected light in his eyes, and Kichlan watched his brother's expression intently.

Once out from behind the screen the air seemed to grow lighter, grow cooler and fresher. Natasha, with a smirk and a wrinkle of her nose, pressed a warm bun into my hands. The smells of melted cheese and cooked mushrooms wafted up, and sent my stomach growling.

I flopped into the couch and ate through my food, refusing to meet the eyes of the others.

Finally, Kichlan and his brother re-emerged. I was feeling sleepy by then, my stomach and hips warm, slightly fuzzy.

"That's all of you, then?" Devich stood before the screen as the second technician dismantled it. He scanned the slides, fingers sketching rows and columns in the air.

"Yes," Kichlan snapped off the word, his arms crossed, his face dark. "You know it is."

"Mmm."

Devich tucked the slides away again. His fellow technician finished cramming the screen into its bag and looked hot in the face, flustered compared to Devich's distant cool.

"Thank you for your participation," Devich rattled off what sounded like a liturgy, one he must have said uncountable times and the collectors had surely heard nearly as often. "For your service to the veche, and Varsnia itself."

A moment of silence. Were we expected to say anything in return?

Devich and the second technician collected their bags, balancing the large one that contained the screen between them. No one offered help.

In silence, the technicians left the sublevel. The paper Devich had given me felt heavy in a pocket close to my chest. My drawers were wet, starting to cool. My head ached.

"Well, that was a waste of a day." Kichlan took his coat from its hook, tossed one to Lad and handed me my own. "We need to make up for it tomorrow. Breakbell, earlier if we can." He shook his head. "Still have a quota to fill. Inspections are never taken into account."

One by one we filed out. Mizra and Uzdal, so close together, heads down in some silent and shared concern. Sofia, drawn and tired. Natasha, whistling a soft tune. Lad took the stairs quickly, still full of energy after a day spent sitting inside. Kichlan kept close.

I didn't know what to feel. Devich brought opportunities back into my life. He brought his invitations to high-ranking parties, his friends in old families. But he also brought instability to that comfortable corner where Kichlan, Lad and I had existed so peacefully. He brought stress for Kichlan, pressure and fear, and he had brought them because of me, because he had been worried about me. I couldn't tell Kichlan it was my fault, that I had effectively put Lad in such danger.

I would never tell him, but I would try to make up for it regardless. I had to find Jernea, and I hoped the old man still held all the answers. So I could help Lad, and maybe myself.